Audaciously Flirting
by Angelic Guardian
Summary: Now that Arnold finally knows about Helga's true feelings for him, he decides to take a unique approach on how to handle it. The only thing is, Helga always happens to be one step ahead of him. Oneshot.


**Author's Note:** This fic was inspired by an old Craig Bartlett interview I recently listened to, in which he explained that in the episode April Fool's Day, Arnold is very much aware of Helga's feelings for him, since it was one of the final two episodes written and produced after the movie (the other one, of course, being The Journal, which as we all know ended with that giant cliffhanger, the very one we'll finally be getting closure to after all these years with this new TV movie).

Craig also explained that during the tango scene in the April Fool's Day episode, Arnold is in fact flirting with Helga, which both shocked and amazed me, to the point where my imagination decided to take that information and run wild with it. Enjoy! :)

 **Disclaimer:** Hey Arnold! © Craig Bartlett

* * *

"Helga is in love with me."

 _"Helga_ is _in love_ with me."

"Helga G. Pataki is _in love_ with _me."_

He'd lost count how many times he'd said it out loud, as if saying it out loud would somehow cause the words to make even the slightest bit of sense to him. If anything, it only did the opposite, regardless of any variation in the way he said it.

Things had quickly returned to normal after that wild and life-risking adventure to save the neighborhood. As for things between him and Helga, he wished he could say the same. She'd been particularly eager to take back that entire outpouring of emotion, blaming it all on the lack of sleep and getting caught up in the heat of the moment. Granted, he'd been the one to give her the out in the first place, and he'd even welcomed the insult she'd immediately thrown at him before skipping off, as it only meant that equilibrium had been faithfully restored between them. It had been an unspoken agreement between them, to pretend like it had never happened.

But that was the thing. It _had_ happened, and, try as he might, he simply couldn't forget about it. In hindsight, it actually was pretty obvious that the only reason Helga always teased him and called him names and acted so cruel towards him was to cover up the fact that she was hopelessly, ridiculously, completely, undeniably, insanely, wholeheartedly, head over heels _in love with him._

And now that it was out there, it seemed that Helga had taken her cruelty towards him and kicked it into high gear. It was almost like she was going out of her way to top her mean streak, by any means possible, so that he'd go back to thinking she really _did_ hate him, even though they both knew otherwise.

He'd thought getting even with her would have finally put an end to all the games, to the bully façade she'd so skillfully crafted and maintained throughout the years, but of course, the immature prank he'd wound up pulling on her had only backfired. He knew what he'd done was wrong, but it had only been an accident on his part. Helga was the one to conspire an evil plan to make him feel even guiltier about the whole thing by carrying on like she'd gone permanently blind long after her eyesight had fully returned. Even after all was said and done, she'd still come out the victorious one. He had to admit, there was something to admire about how clever she was, even if she did use her craftiness for her own devious agenda, namely to humiliate and torment him.

Still, it all seemed so ridiculous now. Why couldn't she drop the act and start being honest with him? That was the most frustrating thing about this whole weird situation he now found himself in with Helga. If she loved him so much, why'd she still have to go on putting up a front and acting like she hated him with every fiber of her being?

Maybe it was partly his own doing, since he'd been the one to insist that she actually hated him. In all fairness, he really had thought it was what he'd wanted at first. However, after everything that had recently transpired between the two of them, he just couldn't see the logic in pretending anymore. He knew the truth now. They both knew it. They couldn't keep ignoring it.

Of course, there were occasional glimpses in which her tough resolve would crumble and her true feelings for him would show. He saw it in the way her eyes would widen or her face would fall after she'd insult him or push him or yell at him or take it too far in hurting him. He would see the look of guilt flicker across her face like a strike of lightning, powerful and bright, but gone in that same flash.

Those little moments of truth always managed to melt away any ill feelings Arnold occasionally had towards her, allowing him to remember that she really was a good person deep down. She may have been rough around the edges, but that kindness was within her. He knew it was there, because he'd seen it on many occasions in the past. All it would take was the right amount of coaxing for that hardened exterior of hers to finally break once and for all.

As he stared up at the sky through his bedroom windows, he focused on the clouds passing by with a slow gust of wind. There was one cloud in particular that appeared to be taking on a unique shape. There was a circle, or a ball. It almost looked like a fist. And there was a head, with two rectangular shapes on either side of it. They almost looked like…pigtails. And there were a couple of triangular shapes, forming what looked to be a bow. A _pink_ bow.

With a gasp, he tore his gaze from the sky. For a while, he simply lay there on his bed and did nothing but try to calm down his rapid heartbeat that seemed so stubbornly unwilling to slow down. All because he couldn't stop thinking about Helga Pataki. When had _that_ started happening?

 _Ever since she confessed her feelings to you, doi,_ a subconscious voice somewhere in the back of his mind said, one that sounded an awful lot like Helga herself.

Arnold closed his eyes and sighed at length. _Helga._ What was he going to do? The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't keep pretending as if things were the same between them, because frankly, they weren't. The knowledge of how she really felt about him was taking over his every waking thought, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything else. Something had to change. He had to get through to her somehow. He had to be honest with her. He had to make her understand how _he_ felt, even if he wasn't exactly sure himself.

And, just when he thought all hope was lost, an idea suddenly sprang into his head, an idea so bold, so daring, it was just crazy enough to work.

* * *

"One side, moron," Helga said in her typical brusque fashion, pushing away a random pimple-faced geek as she stormed through the hallways of P.S. 118. She cast a look behind her at her best friend, who struggled to keep up as she carried a pile of books. "Step on it, Phoebe. If I'm late to class one more time I'm gonna get slapped with a detention slip."

"Hurrying," Phoebe said in that always obedient tone of hers, even as her arms shook beneath the weight of all the books.

Meanwhile, heading to class from another end of the hallway were Arnold and Gerald, the two of them having a casual morning chat about last night's homework.

"I'm telling you, Arnold, fractions are going to be the death of me," Gerald said. "I spent over an hour figuring out those math problems last night. All that algebra is enough to drive a guy nuts."

"At least fractions aren't as bad as long division," Arnold said.

"There you go again, always looking on the bright side," Gerald said, unimpressed. "I swear, it really is starting to get old, man. And don't you dare say, 'Somebody has to.'"

"Well, somebody _does,"_ Arnold said, despite himself.

Gerald heaved a sigh. "Whatever you say, Arnold."

As they passed the water fountain, Gerald paused to take a drink, while Arnold kept walking. He rounded the corner at the exact same moment as Helga, leaving the two of them to crash into each other and land hard on the ground.

Helga groaned under her breath as she sat up. Her eyes went wide for a second as she gaped at Arnold, who'd put a hand to his forehead, but she was quick to get a hold of herself. She lowered her brow and clenched her fists, unleashing her usual tirade.

 _"Criminy,_ how many times do I have to tell you to watch where you're going, you annoying little yellow-haired shrimp?" she asked, fury burning in every single one of her words, even as she stood up and dusted herself off. "I mean, really, are you that _blind?_ What the heck is _wrong_ with you? Learn how to walk already!"

The whole time Helga was yelling at him, Arnold was busy picking himself up from the ground and collecting the stray notebooks he'd dropped. After she finished, she glowered at him impatiently, clearly waiting for him to apologize to her, the way she always did. Little did she know, he had quite a different response in mind for today.

"You're right," Arnold said, plainly enough to not incite any suspicions. At least, not yet, anyway. "I really should watch where I'm going."

Helga only scoffed, totally unapologetic and uncaring. Without missing a step, she brushed past him. Arnold watched her for a few seconds, feeling a twitch in his heartbeat over what he was about to say, but at that point, he knew it was now or never. Gathering his nerves, he let the words spill out of him.

"By the way, Helga. You look really cute today."

Helga stopped short like the scratch of a record needle. Time itself seemed to stand still entirely. Even Gerald, who'd long since deserted the water fountain, was so taken aback by what he'd just heard that he didn't even notice Phoebe bumping into him.

As for Helga, by the time she turned around to face Arnold, any trace of malice on her face was gone.

"What did you say?" she asked, not even attempting to mask her astonishment.

For what it was worth, Arnold managed to hold his composure, which surprised even himself. This time, though, he moved away from the nonchalant attitude by giving her a little grin.

"Well, actually," he said, "what I should say is, you look _extra_ cute today. I've always liked that bow, you know."

Helga looked up at the pink bow atop her head, as if she were discovering it herself for the very first time. She was silent, utterly and uncharacteristically silent, to the point where it was almost a little eerie. Whether she actually planned on saying something in response was unclear, because that was when the morning bell rang, loud and drawn out, putting an end to their exchange for the time being.

"I guess I'll see you in class," Arnold said, finishing off his mysteriously bold remarks with a not so mysterious wink, which only made Helga's eyes pop. He immediately hurried off, but not without grabbing a still shocked to the bones Gerald and dragging him away.

After they were gone, Phoebe, who was just as stunned as anyone, found that she could do nothing but stand there, even with her arms feeling like they were about to give out with the weight of the books, even with the knowledge that she was now risking her own untarnished record of never once being late to class the longer she stood there. In that moment, none of that mattered to her, and in fact, her only concern was for her best friend, who appeared to be literally frozen in place.

"Helga?" she asked, quietly, so as not to startle her. "Are you all right?"

The girl in question snapped to look at Phoebe so abruptly she flinched.

"Conference," she said. _"Now."_

"But, Helga—"

Any feeble form of protest that was about to come out of Phoebe's mouth was cut short as Helga grabbed her by the arm and jerked her down the hall, the stack of textbooks tumbling to the ground along the way.

* * *

"Hold up a second, Casanova," Gerald said, shaking himself out of his best friend's grasp before he could pull him into their fourth grade classroom. He crossed his arms as he asked, "You want to tell me what the heck you think you were doing back there?"

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked, purposely playing dumb. He could tell Gerald was in no mood to play games, though, as his patience was running thin.

"Come on, man," he said. "Did you actually say what I think you said?"

"You mean…about Helga?" Arnold asked.

 _"Yes,_ about Helga!" Gerald said. "Is there something going on between you two?"

Arnold hesitated. The truth of the matter was, he had no idea how to even begin to answer that question, mostly because he didn't know himself what was actually going on between him and Helga, and so, he took the easy way out.

"We have to get to class," he said.

"Mmhmm," Gerald said knowingly, and with that, he dropped the subject and followed Arnold inside without another word.

* * *

"You _told_ him?"

"Yes, Phoebe, I _told_ him. I opened my big, stupid mouth and poured my guts out to him. I told him _everything,"_ Helga said. She paced about the cramped space of the janitor's closet, clutching a broom. "I told him about the poems, the shrines, the stalking. And then I grabbed him and I—" She paused, squeezing the handle of the broom with such strength she could probably snap it in two if she really tried. With a sigh, she confessed, "I _kissed_ him."

"You _kissed_ him?"

"Yeah, that's right, I gave him a long, passionate smooch, because I'm the biggest idiot on the whole stinkin' planet," Helga said, gritting her teeth as she chucked the broom back at the wall. "And, sure, things were fine between us for a while, but now it's like he's—like he's _mocking_ me or something. You heard him back there. He called me—" Her breath caught in her throat, as though her lungs were holding the air hostage for a frightening second. She vigorously shook her head. "He couldn't have actually _meant_ what he said just now, could he have, Phoebe?"

"Gosh, Helga, I truly wish I could provide some sort of keen insight on this rather shocking turn of events, but I'm afraid I'm just as perplexed as you are," Phoebe said. "Perhaps you need to take a moment and look at this from his perspective. He could simply be trying to get you to—"

"Get me to what?" Helga demanded.

"Oh, dear, how do I put this?" Phoebe said, bringing up her hands and wringing them together as she pondered the best way to phrase her next words. "He could be trying to get you to…soften up a bit, so to speak."

"Soften _up?"_ Helga said, and she only let out a haughty scoff. "Get _real,_ Phoebe. I'll tell you exactly what he's doing. He's toying with my affections, _that's_ what he's doing. Well, let me tell _you_ something. Helga G. Pataki is no sucker. If he wants to mess with me, you can bet your butt I'll be _more_ than happy to mess with him right back. I'll mess with him so good, by the time I'm through with him, that little punk won't even _know_ what hit him."

She cackled wildly, with the ardor of a mad scientist about to awaken her latest creation. It scared Phoebe to no end, especially with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do or say to stop her.

It grew all the more unsettling when Helga's laughter abruptly ceased, and she looked at Phoebe with a deadpan expression as she motioned to the door.

"After you, Pheebs."

* * *

The school day carried on as normal. Helga threw a few dozen or so spitballs at Arnold for good measure, and she made sure to give him her trademark scowl every time he turned around to look at her.

Of course, being the ingenious schemer that she was, Helga knew she had to wait for the perfect moment to strike back at him, so she did, all the way until lunchtime. Arnold was carrying a tray of cafeteria food to go sit down at one of the tables when Helga jumped in front of him, jolting him to a stop.

"Hiya, Arnoldo," she said in an unusually chipper tone.

"Oh," Arnold said. "Hi, Helga. Listen, about this morning, I should probably explain myself—"

"No need," Helga said, holding up a hand. "I already know why you said all that crazy stuff you said to me this morning. And, I gotta say, I find it pretty darn flattering."

"You do?"

"Of course," Helga said. "Heck, I should've known it would only be a matter of time before you'd go all gaga over me."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, don't start getting all modest on me now, lover boy," Helga said, her eyelids drooping as she stepped closer to him. "Besides, now that I know how you really feel, it gives me all the courage I need to do something like, oh, I don't know, say, _this."_ She grabbed him by the shoulders and inhaled the fresh-smelling scent of his hair. "Ah. _Delicious_."

With a satisfied smirk, she released him and walked away, feeling a renewed sense of confidence, despite all the murmurs she could distinctly hear swirling all around her.

* * *

Helga basked in the glory of her victory all the way through recess, but unfortunately, it all came crumbling down by the time recess was over. When the bell rang, the kids all reluctantly left the playground to head back inside. Helga did the same, only to freeze when she saw Arnold standing there, holding the door open for her.

More whispers broke out among their classmates. This time, Helga even heard someone go, _"Ooooh."_ All this attention made the back of her neck prickle with sweat, and yet, all she could do was stand there like some sort of infatuated idiot as she stared into the eyes of her beloved, who patiently waited for her to walk through the door.

 _Why is he doing this to me?_ _I can't take much more of this. He's driving me crazy! That does it. This calls for drastic measures. There's no way I'm going to let him win this weird, stupid, confusing little game between us._

Her face hardened into a look of unforgiving determination as she walked through the school doors. She narrowed her eyes at Arnold in a cold, menacing snarl, as if to say, _Just you wait, buddy boy._

* * *

Arnold couldn't get Helga's terrifying look of pure evil out of his head. He was on edge, holding a pencil between his hands and twirling it with the speed of a mini race car. He was beginning to think that attempting to be nicer than usual to Helga probably wasn't the best idea after all.

 _Little late with that revelation, Einstein,_ the subconscious, Helga-sounding voice mocked in the back of his mind.

"Okay, class, now before we jump into today's reading lesson, I wanted to know if there's anyone who'd like to share their latest poetry assignment with the class," Mr. Simmons said. Among all the eye rolls and groans he received in return, he only smiled. "Come on, now, there's no need to be shy. Poetry is a beautiful form of art to express the inner depths of one's soul—"

Helga's hand shot up. "I'll read mine, Mr. Simmons."

"Oh," he said, pleasantly surprised. "Really? That's wonderful, Helga. But, I've always thought you prefer to remain—"

"Anonymous?" Helga said as she got up from her seat with her poem and walked to the front of the class. "Nah, not this time." She cleared her throat. "This one is dedicated to the one and only object of my deepest desires."

She looked right at Arnold. He dropped his pencil. She cleared her throat, and, with a calculating grin stretching wide across her face, she read her poem aloud:

 _"Longing_ _  
For the day you'll hold me in the warmth of your arms  
_ _To taste the sweetness of your tender lips once more_  
 _For me to call you forever mine, and I, forever yours_  
 _Longing_ _  
For the day you'll finally look me in the eyes and say_ —"

And she looked Arnold square in the eyes as she finished, _"I love you."_

Silence consumed the entire room, a silence so distinct, Arnold worried people would be able to hear his heart banging against his ribcage like a pigeon wildly flapping its wings. It felt like an eternity had gone by before Mr. Simmons finally broke the deafening silence.

"Oh, my, Helga, that was beautif—"

Harold's howling laughter cut him off.

"What a dumb, girly, _love_ poem!"

The rest of the class promptly joined in on the raucous laughter, all except for Phoebe and Gerald, as well as Arnold, who looked to be too shocked to do anything but sit there, his eyes unwillingly glued to Helga. She looked at him with the same serious, doe-eyed look she had that morning, before it all came crashing down. Her eyes narrowed. Her face darkened. Her hands tightened, crumpling up her poem, and, with a furious growl, she went on the attack. She lunged at Harold, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him so hard she managed to pull him out of his seat.

"Say that again, pink boy," she said in a seething tone, and she brought up her fist. The laughter was replaced with gasps filling the room. Harold gulped. She tightened her fist, cracking her knuckles, ready to hit him, when Mr. Simmons intervened in a flurry.

"Helga, please, let's take a second and relax," he said in as placating a manner he could manage amidst the escalating situation. "I may have been lenient about your tardiness this morning, but if there's one thing I do not tolerate, it's the threat of violence. I'm afraid I have no choice but to give you detention. Now, please kindly release Harold and return to your seat."

Helga looked from the increasingly nervous Mr. Simmons, to the scared out of his wits Harold. With another growl, she shoved Harold back into his seat and headed back to her own desk, collapsing into it and sinking as far down as possible.

As Mr. Simmons hesitantly began the reading lesson, Arnold found his concentration permanently derailed, and he couldn't help glancing at Helga every so often. She sat with her elbows folded on her desk and her chin resting against them, hiding most of her face. She only met his gaze once, and when she did, there was a look of sheer hurt in her eyes that he'd never seen from her before, like her spirit had been crushed.

It brought a wave of sadness to his heart.

* * *

When the school day was over, Arnold lingered by his locker, moving sluggishly, unable to shake the heartache from that afternoon. As he headed out, he was so preoccupied with his thoughts he wasn't paying attention to where he was going, and he collided into someone. He managed to find his balance at the last second, only to see the person he'd accidentally knocked to the ground.

"Helga," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said as she sat up and waved him off. "Don't worry about me."

"Well, at least let me help you up—"

"I said I'm _fine,_ _"_ she said so brashly he found himself too shaken to move now. She proceeded to stand up and speak so harshly, it was obvious she was only covering up how emotionally defeated she was. "I don't need you to help me. I don't need you to be nice to me. I don't need _anything_ from you, Arnold. Now, why don't you do me a huge favor and get out of my sight? I've got detention."

She walked away, but without the usual fire in her step. Arnold frowned. It was official. He'd broken Helga G. Pataki.

* * *

Arnold sighed with the heaviness of a kid carrying the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. There was a knock at his door, and in walked his grandpa.

"Oh, boy," Phil said the moment he saw Arnold, sprawled across his bed and staring up at the sky yet again. "I knew something was wrong when you got home from school and headed straight up to your room without saying anything. It can only mean you're having another one of your complicated, boyhood problems. What is it this time, Short Man?"

"It's nothing, Grandpa," Arnold said, bringing up his hands and resting them over his stomach, which seemed to be endlessly twisting in knots.

"Hmm," Phil said. He rubbed his chin as he observed his grandson and proceeded to skillfully tabulate his symptoms. "Let's see now… Wistful sigh, clutching your stomach, daydreaming more than usual… It's either indigestion, or… Wait, don't tell me. Ooh, I know! You're having girl problems again, aren't you? That mean girl with the pink dress and the pigtails and the one eyebrow?"

"Helga," Arnold said automatically. "Yeah. I'd rather not go into any details, but basically things are really weird between us right now, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Oh, Arnold," Phil said with a sympathetic shake of his head. "Look at you. Suffering from all this girl trouble at only nine years old. And the worst of it is, you ain't even seen _nothing_ yet. Just wait'll you hit puberty."

"Grandpa," Arnold said in warning.

"Okay, okay, you're right. That's a conversation for another day," Phil said as he took a seat at the end of Arnold's bed. "Now, listen, Arnold, I know you're a sensible kid, always thinking things through and doing the right thing. But, sometimes, you gotta stop thinking, and you just gotta go with your gut. Especially when it comes to women."

Arnold met his grandpa's gaze, and his grandpa offered him a friendly smile.

"I'll leave you alone to have your little epiphany," Phil said, and with that he got up and left, his smile turning a bit more mischievous as he shut the door behind him and descended the stairs. "Poor kid. He's got a long and messy road ahead of him with that girl. And then before he knows it, he'll be marrying her."

* * *

Helga sat alone in the classroom with her feet propped against her desk and her hands behind her head. Another pointless after-school detention. She didn't even care she was here. It was the least of her problems. She had far worse things to worry about, like the fact that her entire reputation was ruined. It was no secret her classmates thought she was a total joke now, all of them teasing her, making fun of her. And the worst of it all, this was all her own doing. No, come to think of it, this was all _Arnold's_ doing. He was the one who'd started this whole thing with that "cute" comment he'd made this morning. He was the one screwing with her emotions. He was the one—

"Helga?"

"Arnold," she said with a jump, dropping her legs to the floor and her hands to her lap. "What the heck are _you_ doing here?"

"I—well, it's sort of hard to explain," Arnold said as he brought a hand to the back of his head.

"Yeah, well, hop to it, hair boy, before Principal Wartz comes back to 'keep an eye' on me," Helga said, making air quotes. "What an idiot. The guy thinks he's so powerful. And I once caught him playing with little animal figurines he keeps stashed in his desk."

As she spoke, Arnold shut the door and strolled over to her. His eyes were on the ground now, and he was rubbing his hands together, which all piqued Helga's interest.

"Well?" she asked. "What's with you? You got something to say, just spit it out."

"I will."

"Then do it."

Arnold sighed. "Helga, we both know how you really feel about me," he said, to which Helga's heart stopped beating for a full second, though if her face indicated it, he didn't seem to notice, as he simply continued. "And, I guess, the real reason I was being extra nice to you today was because I thought I could get you to start being nice to me, too. But then I realized that's not who you are, and you know what? I wouldn't want you to change, because you're really great the way you are. So, I guess, what I'm trying to say is, I want things to go back to the way they were before, without all this weird…tension between us. And I have an idea on how to do that, but only if you're totally okay with it."

"I…I'm listening," Helga said, her pulse rising in anticipation.

Arnold took a deep breath. "Well…I was thinking…since you've kissed me, maybe now I could kiss you."

Helga fell out of her seat.

"Ow," she said, wincing in pain, only to stop when she felt a hand on her elbow. "Hands off the merchandise."

"Sorry," Arnold said, holding up his hands.

Helga maintained the perturbed look on her face as she climbed back into her seat.

"So," she said in a matter-of-fact tone despite feeling like she was about to pass out with her adrenaline in overdrive. "Let me get this straight. You're saying, you want me to go back to calling you names, tormenting you, the whole nine yards, all so I can once again put up a front to make it seem like I'm not completely in lo—" She paused, the last few words getting stuck in her throat. "W-Well, you know. And then _you'll_ go back to sort of ignoring me sometimes and basically pretending like you don't know how I really feel about you—" She stopped again, and switched gears. _"And,_ you think the best way to do all that is for you to… _kiss_ me?"

"Well, yes," Arnold said. "But only if you want me to kiss you."

"Yes!" Helga said, and Arnold blinked. She mentally kicked herself, willing herself to calm down. "I mean, uh, yeah. Sure. I'd be…okay with that. As long as you swear you'll be okay with me picking on you again. If that's really what you want."

"Yeah, I think it is," Arnold said. "I mean, at least for now. After all, we are only in the fourth grade. We've got a long time to figure out our feelings for each other. Right now, I'd rather not have to worry about it so much, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or be ridiculed by our classmates. You don't deserve that. Because, the truth is, I really do care about you, Helga."

This was it. He meant that. Helga could feel it. No games right now. Just honesty. _Oh, my sweet love. How innocent you are._ He wasn't ready for this yet, and if she were being completely honest, neither was she. He was right. They had plenty of time to figure this out. This crazy, screwy emotion called love.

"I care about you, too," Helga said before she could lose her nerve. "Even if I don't always show it."

"I know," Arnold said, and he smiled warmly.

Helga had to hold her breath to stop herself from letting out a long, trembling sigh as her insides turned to mush and her heart sang. It wasn't long until the silence between them grew palpable, as did her impatience.

"Well, come on," she said. "What are you waiting for? To grow a pair of antlers? Lay one on me already."

Surprisingly, there was no hesitation from Arnold. He simply leaned down and kissed her. The moment his lips touched hers, time slowed down. It was a simple kiss, smooth and gentle, a stark contrast to the forceful and zealous kiss Helga had planted on him, but it was perfect nonetheless. She never wanted it to end.

Getting caught up in the moment, Helga reached up with both hands and seized a handful of Arnold's shirt. He made a noise of surprise, but didn't pull away, and in fact, his hand came up of its own accord. She felt his fingertips lightly brush her cheek, a touch so fleeting and delicate, it was likely unintentional.

It made her heart do a somersault all the same.

When they parted, their hands fell away, though their faces remained inches apart as they stared deeply at each other. Time resumed. The sound of distant traffic was the only backdrop to the otherwise complete silence between them. Simultaneously, they looked down to find Arnold's hand cupped over Helga's, and yet, he didn't let go.

"So…are we okay?" he asked.

Helga could hardly breathe. This was singlehandedly the greatest moment of her young life. She kept staring at Arnold's hand, perfectly resting on top of hers. It was so warm. She couldn't get over it. He was actually touching her of his own free will.

"Helga?"

She shook her head so hard she practically rattled her brain.

"You bet we're okay," she said with a smirk. She pulled her hand out of Arnold's grasp and slipped both of her hands behind her head once more, bringing her feet back up as well. "Now, quit hitting on me and get out of here before I make you wish you'd never been born, football head."

Arnold grinned.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

He left, and as soon as he closed the door, Helga brought her hands over her heart and finally released her high-pitched, fluttering sigh.


End file.
